Can Red Leather Pants Really Control Your Mind?
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: Tim indulges himself with some new pants, not realizing the power they yield over him. Tiny spoiler for the Season Seven opener nothing major, though


Red was a color that he rarely (if ever) incorporated into his wardrobe. It wasn't the best color for his skin tone and he found that it evoked images of painted lips, manicured nails, and lacy lingerie; feminine items, none of which he wanted directly associated with him. Red was also a forbidden color, one linked to biblically evil things; the apple from the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden, the flames of hell, even Satan himself. It seemed like a color that was reserved for vixens and seductresses, not one that should be worn by a federal agent, especially one as geeky as he was.

Maybe, though, it was because of this taboo nature that he coupled with the hue that he decided to buy the pants. The _red_ pants; the red _leather_ pants. It was hard to be any gutsier than that. The pants clung tightly to him, hugging every crook and curve of his shapely legs, and cradling his four-star (out of five) butt the way a mother cradles her newborn. How the sales woman in the store managed to keep from reaching out and giving his red-leather encased bum a little pinch was beyond Tim; he was finding it difficult to keep his own hands away from it.

He felt dangerous in them, like he should pair them with a studded leather jacket adorned with a skull and crossbones while he sped down the highway on his hog ("hog" meaning a motorcycle, of course; it would look quite silly and un-dangerous to ride down the highway on an actual hog). He could see the women looking at him as he parked the bike, removed his helmet (despite his newfound sense of danger, he would be a safe driver and wear the proper motorcycle-riding gear), and shake his head of glorious, fluffy hair (once he grew it out, of course). He'd give them a wink as he passed, leaving them to swoon over the sight of his butt cradled in those sexy red leather pants. What those girls wouldn't give to ride on the back of his motorcycle, their arms wrapped around his waist and their bare legs pressed against his hot red leather pants.

The cost put a mini-dent in his wallet, but it was well worth it. With red leather pants he could do anything; he could make his own rules. So confident was he in his new pants that he chose to wear them out, leaving his old, boring slacks behind in the store for charity. On his way out, he made it a point to admire his firm butt in the reflection of the store's one-way mirror window, much to the delight of the adoring sales girls on the other side of the window. He ran a hand down his left buttock, feeling the smooth leather. Inside, the sales girls sighed, imagining that it was their hand running down that butt.

Tim sauntered to his car, shooting the passing female jogger a smile while he admired her stride ("stride" meaning the way her C-cups bounced up and down as she ran). In a moment of great courage, he added a wolf whistle, something he'd never done before. It felt good.

He'd expected the pants to begin to chafe the sensitive skin of his thighs, but they stayed perfect, even when the sweltering sun beat down upon him. The drive home was filled with winks to female neighboring drivers, the number of a particularly attractive police woman who pulled him over for speeding (but let him off with a warning in return for a date) and the smooth flow of jazz music filling his Porsche. It wasn't his normal, 70's porno jazz; this was that kind of jazz that Tony liked. Tim found that the music really set a mood for him.

"Jethro!" he called when he entered his apartment. Tim was feeling so good, so unlike his usual self. It was like he was on a high.

The large German Shepherd ran excitedly to meet his master (mainly because his stomach clock told him that suppertime was near). Usually when Jethro greeted Tim, he jumped up onto his hind legs, placing his front legs on Tim's chest, and licked the man's face (mostly in an effort to lick up whatever traces of food still remained on Tim's face). This time, the canine skidded to a halt before reaching Tim and cocked his head to the side, studying the man with uncertainty.

"What's wrong, boy?" Tim asked as he knelt down beside his dog, giving him a soft pet. Jethro, in turn, licked Tim's hand.

It looked like his master. It smelled like his master. It sounded like his master. It felt like his master. It tasted like his master. Based on these facts, it should be his master, yes? So why was Jethro still dubious? He knew it was Tim on the outside, but there was something very different about the man. It reminded him of that pod person alien movie Tony had lent to Tim. Had his master's body been inhabited by an alien?

"It's just me," Tim told him, as though reading his mind. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

Normally such an offer would have Jethro jumping and barking in anticipation; this time, he merely slinked away with his tail between his legs. "Jethro?" Tim asked with concern. He scratched his head as he watched his pet retreat. That was strange. But Tim didn't have time to fret about it. He was young and single and wearing red leather pants. There was one place he needed to be and that was on the town. After all, it would be wrong to deprive all of those women out there of the very thing they were lusting after.

"Wait," he said aloud, "it's Sunday. Would it really be smart to go out tonight? Maybe I should just call it a night."

No, said an inner voice, go out. You always stay in—the good little geek. Be daring for once. Go out…find a hot, young thing to spend the night with. It will do your soul good.

He fed Jethro—who was still avoiding him—and thought about taking a quick shower before heading out for the night. Then he realized that in order to take a shower he would have to take off his pants. The very idea of doing so frightened him. How could he be without his pants, even for only ten minutes? No, he decided, he would just change his shirt and spray a little cologne. The hot babes were waiting for him and his butt-cradling red leather pants, and he'd be damned if he was going to keep them waiting.

"Ladies," he proclaimed as he gave himself a quick once over, "here I come!"

* * *

Tony couldn't quite believe his eyes when Tim meandered off the elevator the following morning. It wasn't that the generally punctual computer geek was two hours late and didn't seem to care; what troubled him was that Tim's normally demure (i.e. boring) ensemble now included a pair of bright red leather pants. And they were tight…a little _too_ tight.

"Sorry I'm late," Tim said in a tone that didn't sound sorry in the least. "I met this wild girl last night. Her name was Tina…or Gina…or Lina…something like that. Anyway, we went back to her place for a late night game of hide-and-seek between the sheets, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, I know what you mean," Tony said as he tried not to think about Tim having sex with anyone. "And if you don't think up a better story than that, Gibbs is going to play a little game called 'headsmack you into next month,' if you know what _I_ mean."

Tim shook his head as he removed his shades. "Nah, he's cool. You just have to know how to work him."

"How to work who, McGee?"

In the past, Gibbs' sudden and seemingly out-of-nowhere appearance would make Tim jump and stutter out a reply; this time the young agent simply glanced over his shoulder to see his seething boss standing there with Ziva. "Hey, boss," he greeted with a wave. "Really digging the new look you're sporting there. Parting it on the side now?"

"Mind telling me why you're two hours late?"

"Actually, boss, I do mind a bit, seeing as it's kind of personal. But rest assured, it's a completely legitimate excuse."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. He'd never seen the young agent like this; to be honest, it was kind of refreshing. While the kid had come in late, it was a first for him, certainly not a habit. He could let him slide this once. "Don't let it happen again, McGee."

Tim gave the man a salute. "Scout's honor, boss."

"New pants?"

Tim looked down and admired the red pants. "They sure are! What do you think?"

"They suit you."

The young agent grinned and turned his attention to the Mossad officer who was salivating over his beautifully cradled butt. "And you, Ziva?"

"I must say, McGee, they are nice; _very_ nice. May I touch them?"

Rather than verbally reply, he turned and stuck out his buttocks to make it more easily accessible to her. Ziva reached out a tentative hand, uncertain if she should touch the round and firm rear end. It looked so wonderfully enticing within those scandalous red pants. Her hand fell upon the butt—it was just as firm as it looked, by the way—and she tenderly ran her hand along the curve from his back down to the top of his thigh. The red leather was so smooth and it cupped his rump so perfectly. Ziva felt like her senses had been captured by this alluring pair of pants.

"Yes," she said breathlessly, "yes, I do believe they are very, very nice. Now, I think I need a…a cool glass of water…"

Tony had watched the scene unfold with increasing astonishment. First, Gibbs lets the tardy Tim off the hook without so much as a slap on the wrist (or to the head, as it were). Now, Ziva was fondling Tim's butt there in the squad room and no one was saying anything. Had the world gone insane? "Boss…?"

"Yeah, DiNozzo?"

"Uh…aren't you going to do something about that?"

"About what?"

"Ziva just touched McGee's butt!"

"So I saw."

"Must you be such a prattle-pale, Tony?"

"The term, Ziva, is tattletale, and yes, I think this warrants a little tattling on my part! If I'd done that to you, I'd have to spend three months in a sexual harassment workshop."

"McGee gave me permission to touch his pants," Ziva retorted. "I was merely feeling the fabric."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"Hey!" Gibbs called, breaking up the impending argument. "Why don't the three of you make yourselves useful and go check on how Abby's doing."

"Sure," Tim said enthusiastically. He was anxious to show the Goth girl his new look. Red leather pants seemed right up her alley. "In fact, I can do it myself. You know, in case you need Ziva and Tony up here."

Tony didn't like the sly edge in Tim's tone. It was the same tone he himself usually had before he was about to swoop in for the kill ("kill" meaning sex, not, like, an actual kill or anything, seeing as that would be illegal). While he wouldn't normally worry about Tim seducing Abby at NCIS, this new, red leather pants wearing Tim wasn't normal. He needed to be carefully watched. "Actually, I think I'll join you, Probie."

"What, you don't trust me to do my job, Tony?"

"Of course I do, McGee. I just think…you know…two heads are better than one."

Tim raised an eyebrow, but didn't protest. If Tony wanted to accompany him down to Abby's lab that was his right…just as it was Tim's right to kick Tony's ass out of there if it looked like his new red pants were doing the trick. "You in, Ziva?"

The Israeli woman had been hypnotized by the tight butt since the moment she'd seen it. She would follow it to the ends of the Earth if necessary. "I am in whatever you are in, McGee."

Tony wrinkled his nose in disgust as Ziva trailed behind Tim's swaying, red leather rump. They were just pants, for crying out lout! Anyone could buy them!

"Whatcha got, Abbs?" Tim asked coolly as he entered the lab with Ziva and Tony in his wake.

The chipper forensic scientist was bent over above a microscope with her right platform boot perched up on the flame-painted toe. "I told you guys I'd call you when I found something!" she said in an irritated tone as she straightened up to greet the trio. Her annoyance dissolved when she caught sight of Tim's tantalizingly tight pants. "Oh, my…"

He smirked at her obvious enjoyment of the view. "Like 'em?"

"Is that a foot long in your pocket, McGee, or are you just happy to see me?"

"Foot long?" Tony echoed incredulously. "That's just wishful thinking!"

"Says the voice of envy," Ziva said with a snort.

"I am _not_ envious of anyone, least of all McGeek!"

Abby was oblivious to the fight as her focus was solely on the sinfully delicious pants…and the sinfully delicious thighs, butt, and groin that were encased within said pants. Tim looked so dangerous standing there. And it wasn't just the pants; his entire demeanor was that of a cool, confident stud. It was turning her on. "So, McGee…are you doing anything tonight?" she asked as she twirled one of her pigtails around her fingers.

His smirk grew. "Nothing yet. Are you proposing something, Abby?"

She giggled. "Maybe…"

An arm slipped through his. "Oh, but my little McGee," Ziva said with a pout, "I was about to invite you over to my place for a home-cooked dinner." And feed it to you as we lie in bed, she added mentally. "I know how hopeless you manly men are in the kitchen. Of course, if you'd rather spend the evening with Abby…"

Rather than turn the predicament into a catfight, Abby simply shrugged. "I can handle sharing…"

Tony's mouth opened and closed silently as he attempted to find the words to properly express his utter shock. Two gorgeous women were going to _share_ the McGeek? What was the world coming to? Was it opposite day? Was he dreaming? Had he gone insane?

No, he knew that it was none of the above. The answer lay in the red leather pants. It was those pants that had hypnotized everyone and had catapulted Tim into the role of stud muffin. He narrowed his eyes at the offending article of clothing. He needed to get rid of those pants to restore stasis to the universe.

"Hey," he interrupted in a fake cheery voice, "why don't I join the three of you? We'll make it a team affair."

The three exchanged uncomfortable looks. It's not that they didn't like Tony (though he could be irritating at times); they just didn't think he would fit in with their plans. Of course, they couldn't be rude. They'd already discussed their after work plans and to not invite him wouldn't be friendly. "Sure," Tim said with far more enthusiasm than he really felt. "That would be…um…that would be fun…"

"Yes…fun," Abby and Ziva intoned.

Tony was well aware of their reticence, but pushed it away. "Great! Let's say seven tonight at Ziva's?"

"We'll be there, Tony."

"Good," he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of de-panting Tim (but only in a purely platonic, totally non-sexual way). "I look forward to it."

* * *

Seven came quickly and Tony soon found himself at Ziva's door along with Tim, who had also just arrived. He still wore his red pants; Tony glared at the devious pants, certain that they were mocking him.

Ha! said Tim's new inner voice. Look at DiNozzo, fuming! Not so fun to be the odd man out, is it?

"Good evening, McGee!" he said jovially, all the while keeping his eyes on the pants.

"Tony," Tim replied with a nod.

The door flew open and a radiant Ziva beamed at Tim. "McGee! How wonderful to see you…and your pants," she added as she gazed lovingly at them. The love disappeared from her eyes when they fell on Tony. She'd hoped that he would arrive last and that the three of them—Tim, Abby, and herself—could pretend to not be home until he left. Now, though, she would have to let him in lest she should look impolite. "Tony," she greeted flatly. "Please, come in."

The men stepped in with Tim leading the way. The apartment smelled of roasted chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, steamed asparagus, and chocolate raspberry cake. An opened bottle of wine sat on the counter along with two full glasses. Abby, who was seated on Ziva's ottoman, held a third glass in her hand.

"Tim!" The Goth shouted gleefully. "Oh…and Tony…" she added with far less glee. "How are you tonight?"

"Oh, I'm just fine, Abbs! Looking forward to tonight!"

Ziva grabbed the two glasses of wine from the counter. She handed one to Tim; Tony reached for the other, but she kept it and took a sip. "Now that we are all here, should we have dinner or begin with a little dessert?"

Tony was very familiar with double-entendres and euphemisms, so he knew that when Ziva said "dessert" she was really talking about sex. But he had to play it cool; he didn't want them to know his plan too soon. "Sure! I could go for some chocolate cake right about now."

Ziva and Abby looked at each other with amusement. This was going to be easier than they thought. "Well, then, Tony, we'll leave you to your cake. I think Abby and I are in the mood for something of a…redder nature."

"I think you mean something of a bluer nature, Ziva."

"No," she disagreed as her eyes roamed over Tim's pants, "I definitely mean red."

Each woman took one of Tim's arms and began leading him to the bedroom. Tim was a bit apprehensive, but his inner voice calmed him. Go, the voice said. This is what you wanted, isn't it?

Tony followed behind them and the trio was oblivious. The women pushed Tim down on the bed and were immediately atop him. They were so into him and he was so into them that none of them noticed Tony join the party. He jumped on top the bed, straddling Tim as he undid the pants button. Tim, Abby and Ziva may not have noticed the addition to their party, but the inner voice did.

No! the voice screeched. You must stop him! He wants to take this all away from you!

Tim opened his eyes and saw Tony working on his pants. "Tony!" he croaked out. "Hey, stop!"

"Don't you want to have sex with them, Probie?" Tony asked nonchalantly as he pulled down the zipper. "You can't do that with your pants on. I'm just helping you guys along."

"Hey! Stop him!" Tim cried to the women.

"Why, Timmy?" Abby asked with a giggle as she kissed his neck. "He's helping us."

"Yes, McGee," Ziva added. "Your pants will need to come off eventually."

"But…b-but…"

"Now, now," Tony grunted as he tried to peel the leather pants off Tim's thighs, "don't fight it, McGee."

Tim tried to kick his legs, but it was difficult with two women sitting on him. His mind teetered back and forth between the pleasure he felt from Ziva and Abby and the commands his new inner voice was giving him to stop Tony. He wanted to ignore the voice and just give in to the pleasure, but the voice persisted.

Stop him! it said. If he takes those pants, you'll lose everything! You'll lose the women and the glory and the confidence!

But the protests were in vain. Tim was pinned to the bed by his adoring fans, giving Tony a prime opportunity to relieve him of his newly acquired red leather pants. He pulled off Tim's shoes and then gave the pants one final tug. They flew off Tim's legs, turning inside-out in the process. With the force of the pull, Tony fell back onto his butt, holding the pants in his grasp.

"No!" Tim yelled as he sat up. He was panting heavily and sweat was dripping down his face. "Tony!"

Ziva and Abby blinked as they looked between Tim—panting amid them on the bed—and Tony—panting on the floor as he held Tim's pants. "Oh…" Ziva said as her cheeks grew red. "I am sorry…I didn't realize."

Abby too was red-faced. "Yeah, guys, I had no idea," she said sheepishly. "I thought Tim was…and I thought Tony…"

Ziva took Abby's arm and led her from the bedroom. "Uh, we'll go to the movies and give you guys some privacy. Just…um…please lock up when you're finished."

"What?" Tim's eyes went wide. "You…you think that…that _we_..." he sputtered. "No! No, you don't understand!"

But it was too late; the women were gone, leaving him pantless in the bedroom with Tony (who was holding aforementioned pants). "Thanks a lot," he muttered to Tony.

"Hey! I saved your life!"

"Oh, yeah! I was being sexed up by two gorgeous women! Thanks for saving me from that!"

"Oh come on, McGee! You'd never be able to take part in a ménage a trios. You're far too wholesome for that."

Now that Tony mentioned it, Tim was blushing a bit at the idea. Not that Ziva and Abby weren't beautiful women, but both of them together on top of him? It was a bit disconcerting.

"You were acting weird all day," Tony continued. "Talking about your sexcapades, making smartass comments, referring to girls as 'chicks.' You were acting like…like…"

"Like you?" Tim supplied.

"See, there you go again with the smartass comments."

Tim sighed. He _had_ felt strange since yesterday, like something else was controlling him. It had all started when he… "The pants!"

"Exactly," Tony said, shaking the red leather pants in his hand. "They put you under some sort of spell."

"So that's why you pulled them off!"

"Of course that's why! What other reason would I have to pull off your pants?"

Tim shrugged with a small smirk.

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Don't go there, Probie."

"So what do we do now?"

"Well, we get rid of the pants and go on with our lives."

"I see. And how am I supposed to get out of here without my pants?"

Tony considered the question. "Well, I could give you my pants to wear and I'll wear the red ones home."

"But then won't _you_…"

"McGee, what are they gonna do to me? As you've already pointed out, I'm already a smooth talking ladies man. I'll be fine."

Tim didn't particularly care for the idea of wearing Tony's pants, but he didn't have much of a choice. "Okay, hand them over."

The other man dropped the red leather pants to the floor and kicked off his shoes. He slipped his slacks down to his ankles…just as the door reopened and Ziva stepped in.

"Oh!" she said with an amused smile as she took in the sight: Tim lying pantless on the bed and Tony standing there with his pants at his feet. "I apologize for interrupting. I just needed to grab my purse," she explained as she sprinted in and grabbed the purse. "Have fun, guys!"

"Great," Tim moaned.

"Could be worse," Tony said as he tossed Tim the non-red leather pants. "I mean, if you're gonna go gay, I'm you're best prospect."

"You've thought long and hard about this, haven't you?"

"Okay, you want to be that way? Give me my pants down. Let's see you get home like that."

"Fine, fine!" he replied as he pulled on the pants. "I'm sorry. Now let's just get home. I'll bring you your pants tomorrow.'

Tony—now wearing the red leather pants—slung an arm over Tim's shoulder. "You know what movie this reminds me of?"

"_Brokeback Mountain_?"

"Funny," Tony said with a look. "No, I was gonna say _The Mask_. You know; a shy, geeky guy finds a magical green mask that transforms him into a stud and gets Cameron Diaz. Only, in this case, you found a magical pair of red pants."

"And instead of getting Cameron Diaz I got you. Not exactly an equal comparison."

"Hey. McGee?"

"Yeah, DiNozzo?"

"Do these pants cradle my butt?"

* * *

**AN:** Thanks for reading!


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